Surrender
by Ellourrah
Summary: Her heart was pounding, blood pumping angrily against her throat. It hurt, how much she loved him. It hurt even more to know that it was hopeless.
1. Chapter 1

This was it. Usagi suddenly felt like she was traveling the short footpath to her doom. Her hands clenched against the pounding heart within her, her eyes squeezed shut. Though her heart and her mind had never truly been at odds with each other before, she was feeling the opposition now. Taking a moment to calm her breathing, she sighed and leaned her head back against the brick of the building beside her. Across the way, perhaps only 15 feet from her stood another structure, the one that she would have to enter at some point. Today would be preferable.

It had been on her mind for months. The aching pain, the loneliness…. She could no longer house those growing emotions safely, it was tearing her apart. Everything seemed to be effected by the sorrow, the longing. Like a torture session from the medieval era, it had to stop or she would die. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, her lungs seemed to be refusing to work. A few tears slipped unnoticed down the side of her face, both in fear and hope. She didn't bother to reach for them. Her mind was focused completely on other things.

The vision of those eyes filled her every thought. There was simply no escaping him, even in her sleep. With hours of video games to numb her mind, still his face would appear on the screen, causing the poor girl's heart to nearly fail as her character went into death throws. It seemed her mind would never stop working, never stop fantasizing no matter how hard she fought, no matter how much logic she tried to use on it.

Chiba Mamoru was the most gorgeous man alive. Fact.

Chiba Mamoru was the most intelligent man alive. Fact.

Tsukino Usagi was the most useless person alive. Fact.

Mamoru would never love Usagi. Fact.

But it seemed Usagi had not evaded him so easily. Within moments of meeting the upperclassman her heart had simply gone stark raving mad. No one else would ever do. It was Mamoru or no one, which had caused the poor girl endless sleepless nights. It was no shock to her that she was late, that she slept through class, that her mind was so muddled she couldn't think of anything else. It was no shock that she was so completely useless.

Even if the lithe little blond had been good at school before meeting him, he would have doomed her to failure. Of course, not all the blame could be placed on thoughts of him. Usagi was not naturally gifted toward anything, it seemed. She could not do math, nor English, nor art, nor any other kind of craft or talent. She had held that she was not smart or talented or pretty. She was just Usagi.

And she was walking toward her doom.

Her feet slid lifelessly across the cement. It was hopeless. Mamoru…why did it have to be him? No doubt, his very own fan club would be sitting in the booth nearest to him, they would hear everything Usagi would have to say, and they would mock and ridicule her for her foolishness. If Mamoru would have none of them, what made her think he would want her? What was it about her that he could possibly find special or interesting?

Nothing.

She froze in front of the arcade doors, hair blown back as they slid open to greet her. The chime rang happily as she slid her way through the opening and onto one of the seats at the front counter. It would seem he wasn't here yet, his usual post was occupied by a young man with striking red hair. He was whispering softly to the short brunette beside him in hushed tones, no doubt sweet nothings between lovers. A dull ache began to grow below her heart at the thought. She would declare her undying love to a man who was incapable of loving her. Yet she knew, it was him or nothing.

"Oi! Usagi-chan! You look kinda down today." Motoki's joyful greeting was cut short as she forced a smile onto her face. It wouldn't do to let anyone know of her intentions before he arrived.

"Eiie, onii-san. Demo, can I have something warm to drink?" Motoki cast suspicious eyes toward the swelteringly hot day before nodding and turning away. Baka! Stupid blond! Usagi felt like kicking herself for asking for something so suspicious today. It's just that she felt so…cold. She felt as if her heart would stop working. Shifting uneasily in her seat, both sad blue eyes took in the surroundings of the arcade, lovingly piecing together what would probably be her last look at the place for a long time. When Mamoru's cold eyes fixed on her and that laughing, mocking smile would grace his mouth, she would never come here again.

It was as her eyes wandered the expanse of the room that the doors opened, and the same chime graced her ears. Yet she always knew when he walked in, that it wasn't yet another gaggle of teenage boys. Something about the room seemed different, enhanced by his presence no doubt. Her heart jumped painfully in her chest, expending energy it shouldn't. She gulped; suddenly feeling like this was wrong, that she shouldn't be here. His beautiful, haunting laughter filled the space between them, laced with venom and ice. Again her heart fluttered painfully in her chest, causing her to get a little dizzy in the wake of it.

"Making another shake for the Odango? Pretty soon here she won't even get to come to the arcade. It would take too long to roll her fat body from detention before the place closes." Another lance of pain slammed into her chest, causing the young girl to waver only slightly in her seat. Her tormentor apparently did not notice, and she was not surprised. Why would he ever watch her close enough to see any of the pain she carried? Why would he care?

"Actually this is for someone else, Mamoru. At least try to be nice today." Motoki warned softly, setting the concoction down before the red-head and his date. Usagi was mortified to note that every seat was taken by the counter, except for the one to her right. She gulped again, heart pounding against her wishes as the object of her fantasies settled himself on that stool, followed closely by the gaggle of fan girls who somehow managed to 'talk' the group in the first booth to find another place. The schoolgirl's mouth had gone dry. She couldn't seem to think, couldn't force herself to function with him so close.

"Oh, no doubt the dimwit's already downed her shake and is waiting for another one. Ne, Odango-baka? Are you ignoring me?" He paused, but she could not force words to come from her dry throat. She could not force her emotions to steady long enough for a response. "Oh no! It's finally happened, Motoki-kun! Her teachers and parents have yelled so much she's actually gone deaf! It's ok, Odango, being defective isn't so bad. Matte! You already know that since you're such a screw up."

It seemed even her tears could not come anymore. Though the things he said hurt her deeply, she only felt more and more numb, more and more pointless. A steaming cup of cocoa was set before her, but she didn't even reach for it. The steam on top was so fascinating. It drifted from the darkness, as if released from it's fate to disappear into nothing.

"Where are your friends Odango Atema?! Have they finally realized how pathetic you are and have gone to find better entertainment? Have they…" His words were cut off as Usagi stood, eyes trained on the floor at his feet. She smoothed her dress carefully and settled herself on her knees before him, leaning forward to press her forehead against the ground at his feet. Her position was meek and submissive, her beautiful blond hair mingled with the dirt there to turn a darker color, no longer as ethereal and shining as it had been. The arcade hushed the moment the small girl had knelt, and now shivered in anticipation of what would happen. Her small voice wafted from the dirt, as if she were nothing more than a ghost.

"I concede."

Mamoru blinked. Then he blinked again.

"Come again?" He murmured, hardly believing his eyes.

"I concede." She murmured again, this time a pinch louder. "I surrender, I give up."

Mamoru blinked one more time, drawing in a surprised breath. He didn't dare move, no longer sure what her reaction would be. Why wasn't she screaming and yelling like normal? Why wasn't she telling him exactly what she thought? Why wasn't she being Usagi?!

"You are everything they all said you were, Chiba-sama. You are everything." She lifted herself from the floor, eyes still downcast and cheeks streaked with tears and dirt. "And I am everything you ever said I was. I am nothing. Sayonara." She exited the arcade as quietly as she'd come, leaving murmurs of confusion and doubt swirling behind her.

Walking down the sidewalk was perhaps the largest chore the young girl had ever come to. Before, as she had been walking into the arcade, there had been some small glimmer of hope, a tiny little speck in her world of self doubt and loathing. Now there was nothing. The emptiness gnawed at her, each step was more pain-filled than the last. In the end, she simply slipped into the alley beside her. There, crumpled against the unyielding brick, Usagi lay sobbing, as if her life would be given forfeit. She felt as though it already had.


	2. Chapter 2

The call came hours later, though the young girl could hardly remember answering her communicator, let alone the short trip from her hollow little alleyway and toward the overly crowded shopping mall downtown. The scenery passed, but her eyes didn't see it, her mind didn't register it. Everything was numb, as if her tears had frozen every feeling she'd ever had. Her head pounded with unreleased tears and stress, her hands still shook and she felt short of breath. All of that didn't matter now, though, she had others to worry about now.

The scene opened before her in a jumbled mess of information that couldn't be processed by her muddled and murky mind. Chaos gripped the area as pieces of drywall from the ceiling had fallen in heaps across the ground, several storefronts had been ripped down and one was on fire – most likely from an attack of Mars'. It was otherworldly and frightening to see children cry in the corners, trying in vain to hide from the scaly beast rampaging through the ranks of the Senshi. After spending hours, maybe even days centered entirely on herself, to see the children cry caused a ripple of guilt to wash through the young girl. All of that time spent worrying and hurting over her stupid infatuation with a man who would never look at her that way. She should have been training. She should have taken her responsibilities more seriously and forgotten herself. She should have been more aware of the innocent people around her.

One moment, she was simply numb, trying in vain to hide from the world; and the next, there were tables and stands flying through the air as a rather nasty looking monster bent on the complete destruction had its way with the building. She leapt into action, noting hazily that her movements were not as quick as they had been, her mind not as sharp. The shadow of lethargy threatened to consume her as every movement became more and more difficult to perform.

The left storefront exploded in a blaze of fire, nearly knocking the young girl from her feet. The shrill scream of a child snapped her back into place and she leapt upward, wrapping both arms around a smoldering little boy and careening through a glass showcase. Sudden agony split her arm and she whimpered in pain, glancing down to see a shard of glass glinting wetly in the fake mall lights. No doubt the fire spreading along her back would prove to be more of them grinding through her fuku. The blood dripping down her arm was a silent testament to her own failing. If she had been as fast as Mars or as strong as Jupiter, she could have taken the boy to safety instead of being tossed like a rag doll.

Though the boy leapt up, screaming his thanks to the heroine, she hardly heard it. It was with a distinct detachedness that she returned the boy to his mother, idly brushing her fingers across his bleeding face. That was her fault, too. She forced herself to turn, to face the oncoming youma. If she didn't fight now, other children –other people, would be injured as badly or worse.

Mars' fireball slammed into the ground beside her, erupting the area in intense heat. The destruction could have severely injured her, had Tuxedo Kamen not leapt from the shadows and slammed into her. They fell through the air in a short arch, landing on the rubble strewn tile and sliding to a painful stop. She leapt away from him as if his touch had hurt, clutching her side and gasping. It was physical pain to have the mysterious savior hold her, or save her. It was as if he actually thought something of her. In the wake of her Senshi proclaiming her ignorance, her parents grounding her for her grades, and Mamoru….

The pain of it seared her heart, though she remained outwardly untouched by the emotion. Tuxedo Kamen had been forced to reveal himself just to save her. It was with a heavy heart that her mind retraced it's earlier path. If Mamoru, who was everything perfect in this world to her, couldn't bare the sight of her, then Tuxedo Kamen must not think highly of her either. In fact, she was depressingly sure he only showed up to save her sorry butt from the monsters. Once she had realized that her feelings for both were equally powerful, it didn't take much to realize that she had to make a decision on which man she wanted more. After talking with Mamoru, though, all hope had been mercilessly thrown out the window. If a regular (though perfect) guy couldn't find it in his heart to throw her a kind word on a bad day, then surely her hero would do no better. It was all for the best anyway, her sad mind argued. In the end she wouldn't want someone as amazing as Tuxedo Kamen wasting any of his time on her.

She leapt away from him the second he let go, jumping directly into the battle and forcing her attacks out with as much power as she could muster. Having known of Kamen's oath to keep her safe, she was hell bent to keep him away from her. There would be no use in allowing him of all people to risk his life to save her. He, after all, didn't whine and cry like a baby, he wasn't known as Sailor Pout at all the meetings, and he surely didn't inspire complete disgust every time his name was mentioned. Sure, the others didn't particularly trust him, but they did respect his skills in battle. He would have been a much better choice for the team than she; at least he didn't need to be rescued by someone who could be the enemy.

Her mind chose the wrong moment to shift gears as the Youma barreled forward and body-checked her into a mall stand, sending shards of glass and wood flying everywhere. She screamed out of habit, no longer out of fear. Stunned by the blow, she could only lay there and wallow in her thoughts. She was pathetic. The tears staining her face had nothing to do with the burning agony in her back, or the fact that a large splinter of wood protruded from her other arm. The Senshi continued to fight as if nothing had happened to her. The only pair of eyes she felt on her form was Kamen's, and she was sure even he was disgusted by her weakness.

Faintly, she heard the others scream a warning to her, but her mind barely registered another tentacle flying toward her before her back met with brick, squishing as her blood painted the wall of the shopping center. Another jarring pain as her body collided with the floor again, leaving her coughing up blood into her hands. To her horror, she felt numb everywhere, not only in her mind. Was she paralyzed? Had her idiocy really reached so far? She gulped, trying to force feeling into her legs as Kamen landed beside her, worried words jumbled together as he tried to help her stand.

Instead, she pushed him away weakly, muttering that the battle wasn't over yet, that he could still help the others. Reluctantly, it seemed, he finally backed away after some protesting. At least, she reminded herself, she wished it were reluctance that made him seem to stay by her side longer. In truth, she wondered if one of these battles would eventually kill her. Would it matter to the Senshi? Would they be relieved? Would she ever amount to anything as a Senshi? Her hope was soon fading, though, as she realized that her injuries had made no difference in the fight. Her attacks had not made a difference either, and that if she were to die, no one would notice. No one would care.

The thought was ironically timed, as the only one who might have was chucked bodily into a store window, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. Moon felt her pulse quicken in horror and a scream gurgled out of her throat at the sight. He was here for her, to save her. If he were to die simply because she wasn't strong enough to fight on her own, she would never forgive herself. On wobbly legs, she forced herself upright, stumbling as she went to try and reach him, her only support, her only…. She choked, coughing up blood splattered flesh into her glove.

The sound alerted the Youma to her presence, reminding it that the Moon Senshi had not been incapacitated. It roared, barreling toward her as Kamen struggled to his feet. Her mind distracted and pained, she watched in listless fascination as the beast loomed closer and closer. The sight caused her thoughts to move with a sudden fluidity that frightened her. If she were to die now, Tuxedo Kamen would never have to risk his life for her again. The Senshi would never feel ashamed of her. Her parents would never have to nag her. And Mamoru…she would never see him again. Tears slipped past the barrier of her eyes to travel in a salty line down her smooth cheeks. She whispered a silent prayer before closing her eyes. It was for the best, she reminded herself. The others wouldn't notice her passing, and no one would have to be ashamed of her anymore.

What would he have said anyway? Knowing the arrogant college student, he would have laughed in her face, would have told her that he had tons of fans who felt the same. He would have said she was too young, too stupid, too ugly….

Hot, searing pain burst through every nerve ending as the attack hit dead on, every muscle was paralyzed beneath the sudden blow, all higher brain functions shut down completely as her body was slung across the dirt, blood mingling with the dust. Screams could be heard, though they sounded far away and muffled. Something dark fell down beside her, hands touched her face. But she could no longer see, could barely hear anything. All the strength within her was draining into puddles of murky iron brown beneath her torn, broken body.

"Hold on, Moon. Hold on! Damnit!" Someone screamed, holding her close. Sounds became more and more faint, everything was dark. The weight on her chest seemed to become more persistent with every breath. The person holding her began to rock, sobbing helplessly. She could hardly feel it, nor did she want to. In one last, terrible moment, her lungs finally gave in, and the great Senshi went still.


	3. Chapter 3

Tuxedo Kamen felt the oncoming blow, knew that shards of glass were even now beginning to pierce the sweaty flesh of his back. The terror that jolted down his spine was not at the knowledge of his future pain, but that the Youma had turned on Sailor Moon the moment he had been knocked into the air. The palpable despair crept into his heart with thief-like swiftness as he realized in his current position, he could not recover the ground in time to save her. Considering her state of mind right now, all he could do is cry out in shock and horror as his back slid along the broken chunks of blood-spattered glass before surging to his feet.

A flash of forbidden gold glinted in the late afternoon sunlight, sparked amidst the crimson flashes of dully glinting blood and the Moon Senshi was standing no more. Her broken, twisted body flew through the air in a tremendous arch, finally landing in a crunched heap that slid lifelessly along the broken mall entrance and into what was left of the parking lot. Her impossibly long mane fanned out in sticky net-like fingers that pawed at the ground, soaked in her own blood and finally weighted down from the playful summer breeze that whispered passed the gruesome place.

The devastation could not have been explained through any language at the sight. Kamen's guts had been wrenched in an unbearable knot since the beginning of this fight and he had done everything in his power to save her. His eyes dimmed visibly behind the translucent film of his mask, head lowered in a moment of silence before his hands clenched white at his sides. The rage at seeing his lover –his ancient lover treated so roughly blazed into life, fanned by the malicious crooning of the Youma before him. He could no longer bear to see her coated in blood, couldn't think of anything but tearing this evil demon limb from freakishly arachnid limb.

The mania could no longer be held at bay, and the result was no less than explosive.

Blinding, piercing, burning light burst onto the battlefield with such power that all four Senshi were knocked from their feet and flew a good distance before meeting with the ground again. The Youma itself had been no match for the sheer power now coursing through the area, igniting everything in blinding white fire that threatened imminent destruction. It's shrieking, pain-filled voice echoed in the spacious area of the mall even as wafting dust sifted through the air, taking the demon with it.

As the sun-like fire burned down, the Senshi scanned the area in hopes of seeing the dark savior, but he had been consumed. In his place stood a very familiar head of jet black hair-though it was slightly longer than any of the girls had ever seen it, and broad, rigid shoulders outlined in the familiar black cape. It was where all similarities ended between the two men. This figure emitted such a terribly powerful force that Mars had to shield her eyes from the golden light. By his side lay a large scabbard, adorned in gleaming metals and chains, a hilt also covered in gold. Blazing for all the world like a miniature sun itself, a small crystal the color of gleaming, iridescent gold shimmered multifaceted light across the expanse of the room.

Endymion's dark countenance seemed to suffocate the air in the room, putting out fires that had leapt up at his first arrival. The earth itself shuddered with glee at the feel of the master's footsteps along its surface. One powerful leap and the ground trembled at his landing beside the small, bloody girl in the parking lot. With tender hands, he shifted her slight weight into his lap, pressing fingers against her still-warm eyelids in vain hope. Tears choked his words as he called to her, testing her, pressing kisses to her bruised eyelids. His roar of fury and pain echoed across the expanse of the large city, shaking the very ground beneath them enough to shatter cement.

She did not respond, and worst of all, he felt her life snuff out mere moments after touching her. The Titan herself, struck down by his inadequacy...how he loathed himself all the more for her sacrifice. The Terran Prince wept bitterly at her loss, understanding the fullest extent of her identity, wishing he had not...pushed her away.

Her words in the arcade came back to him, so haunted, so tired. He had run after her, had been held back by the gaggle of screaming fans all barring his way to the door. It had been enough that he could no longer see her on either side of the street. He had begun the search before the battle had broken, but had given up seeing as she would be there and that strange, fateful bond between them would tug him subconsciously to her side.

He had not, however, thought that she would be killed. She had always been so invincible in battle, despite the obvious klutz attacks and wailing. He had watched over her, had known for months that she was the girl who haunted his dreams. Only now, as she died in his arms, did he question the course of action he'd taken. Too late, though, she had already given in before the battle had begun.

And he had caused it.

Shameful tears streaked down his care-worn face as he held her closely. His princess, the same sweet girl he had teased in hopes of pushing her to her potential. He had meant only good things for her, had hoped that over time he could ease the fights between them and eventually start a relationship with her. It was all he had thought about for months, in fact, since their first meeting. But timing was everything, and she had to understand that the reward was equal or greater than the sacrifices made. He had wanted her to understand where they both had failed in their previous lives.

"Helios." Endymion commanded gruffly, lifting his eyes just enough to pierce the veil between Earth and Elysium. "Find her." The silent priest nodded, fountain white hair gleaming in the forever sunlight of the other plane, and wavered into nothingness once more.

Being the High Prince of Earth had few perks, and even fewer joys. It was a hard, demanding job that he had hated from the moment it had been placed on his young shoulders in the previous life. His father had died early, leaving Endymion, hardly more than a boy, to run both Earth itself and the Afterlife. His shittennou had obviously relieved a bit of that pressure over the years, but none until the Lunarian beauty could ever make him forget the responsibility altogether. It had been shear heaven to be with her, and yet had been the very cause of hell itself.

That particular pleasure had come in the vise of a self-righteous hag of a woman. He would never forget her; and in doing so, he would never forget the true meaning of hate. As Serenity's demonic antithesis, the redhead had hounded him for years, dogged his every step and panted and whined at every turn. He had loathed her even before meeting his Angel Princess, had wanted nothing more than to banish her for the things whispered behind closed doors. She was rumored to be a witch and a she-devil, not only in metaphoric form. Her spells and incantations were bought at the highest price and worked their lethal magic years before the coming of Metallia.

It was due to one of her spells that he had recovered his identity early in one of the fights, when Sailor Moon was a solo act. Over the course of a few weeks, he had decided that their love was much too powerful for someone as young as she was, that she would not be able to keep away from him, and he wouldn't mind her doing so. The problem was the same as it had been in their previous lives. So completely entranced by the other, they had been oblivious to the war beginning to mount between their two countries. He swore to himself this time that he would exercise control, that he would hold her away as long as he could to give them a sporting chance against the Dark Kingdom.

Now, though, now it seemed those months of torture and heartbreak were reduced to nothing. He brushed fingers against her soft porcelain skin, sucked in the sweet smell of her shampoo and closed his eyes. His heart beat, slow and steady despite the agony his mind felt. There was only one way to fix this problem, only one way to erase the pain and sorrow. His lips touched her temple gently before everything exploded in light again.

None knew the true depth of Elysium as Endymion did, none had been called upon to usher the dead into their final resting place other than the dark prince himself. Though Helios, his faithful priest, rested eternally within the walls of the ancient underworld, he had never been entrusted with the darkest caves, the deepest pits of eternal damnation. No, only Endymion himself could enter those places of sickening solitude. They were reserved for murderers and whores of blackest kind, death dealers and those lost to the infinite blackness. It was not the place he would have begun the search to find his sweet angel. However, despite his reservations, it is where Helios pointed with certain conviction.

The station in death could not have made any sense. Usagi herself was kind and giving and perfectly honest; why would she be condemned to eternal solitude for that? He called to her through the darkness, hoping and praying that the young priest had been mistaken in his search. It was no use, as her essence careened into him, nearly bowling the young man over in self loathing. Her thoughts swirled around the small figure, tearing at her, breaking her down. Every mean thing she had ever said to him, and every look he had ever given her.

His cruelty returned full force, slamming into his conscience to settle in his gut like a brick. He really had told her she was worthless, that no one would want her. He really had taught her to hate herself more than anyone. Tears coursed the length of his face as he remembered yet again how horrible he could be in those times. He hadn't even thought of it, had been under the assumption that she would forgive and forget once it was all said and done.

But the true meaning behind her own personal Hell was the guilt; the sudden, fleeting, pain-filled thought that this world would be a better place without her. Endymion crashed to his knees in shock as the thought surfaced from the torrent. Her death had only been part of the youma's fault, the other had been her own intent.

The thought didn't have time to settle as he leapt to his feet, crashing through the swirling hate that threatened to swallow her soul. Her fuku was as torn and bloodied as it had been on earth as both dead blue eyes rose to greet him. Horror filled their broken depths and she choked back a sob before burying her head in her arms. Her shoulders shook with unspoken pain before he reached forward firmly and pulled her to a standing position.

He hadn't realized how powerful her emotions would be, nor that she would take his teasing so literally. He hadn't realized that his words today would push her to the ultimate limit and beyond, until she had no will to fight. She had thought he didn't want her at all, that he was disgusted by her, that she would be just another conquest for his male ego. The image of her tear stained face, that glorious head of golden sunshine hair mingling in the dust…another choked sob broke free as he cradled her.

"Please…please go away…" she whispered brokenly, hardly able to speak past the tears that muted her voice. Her eyes avoided him, her arms pushed in vain against his armor plated chest in hopes that it was all some kind of nightmare. Instead, he reached forward to grip her heart-shaped face and turn it resolutely toward himself.

"Usako," His voice was a hard and unrepentant command to listen, and he found the tone worked wonders as she swallowed the next sob. Her eyes grew wide at the use of his secret pet name for her, no doubt wondering why he was referring to her so…possessively. "You are never to leave my side again."

Despite the harsh tone he had used to gain her undivided attention, his kiss was gentle. All the strength from her earlier struggles dissipated and he felt her fall against him. Her lips were salty, no doubt from all the tears she had cried. He ignored the momentary sense of vertigo as Elysium melted away beneath their feet. She squeaked in surprise at the feeling, but was rewarded with his arm around her back to cushion the sudden fall. A gentle breeze blew past them, tickling his face with her hair. She shivered coldly against him as he pulled away, his dark eyes understanding.

The cloak was removed from his breastplate to wrap around the shivering girl. He wasted no time in picking her up from the broken pavement, nuzzling her face against his. It felt so good to finally be able to give in, touch her, hold her. He sighed and absolute contentment and blinked down at his trembling charge.

"Come on, we have a lot to talk about." She smiled shyly, nodding as he leapt into the warm early evening air. Behind them, four Senshi stood in complete shock as the two disappeared into the blinding sunset.


	4. Chapter 4

It was quiet now. The setting of the sun had long since past, painting the sky a quickly darkening shade of violet blue. Even the stars seemed muted tonight; the satin black landscape was dead beneath the fake, trembling street lights that broke through the darkness. The moon herself refused to shine from the heavens, a silent black hole in the otherwise lifeless night. The slightest of breezes shifted the air, teasing the only sensations allowed through the impregnable barrier of obscurity and despair.

It was this definitive, dark night that Mamoru found himself staring into the darkness hopelessly. The shift of nighttime breeze strung invisible fingers through the shadow-dark locks of his hair. The hidden, cobalt depths of his eyes were obscure, even in the soft evening. They searched the infinite night for answers, but found none; there were none to be given and worse yet, none to be made. The situation had become grim, yet there still lay a dawning ray of hope beating against a quickly dissipating horizon. It was for this one shimmering light that he waited, caught in the world of fear and anger as he was, it was for this one chance that he would give all his time and attention and hope.

Things had not gone according to plan. Things, it seemed, never did.

Huddled deep into the soft cushioning of the black leather couch lay her still shuddering form, deeply steeped in the billowing dreamscape she had escaped to. The spider-web rivers of blood oozed from the manifold wounds coating her small frame. The weak shivering bore silent testament to her fragile state, though he had called upon every medical textbook to help her. Unbidden, the flow of crimson continued despite his efforts both of psychometry and western medicine.

The golden sparks had been greatly weakened when the seal of Elysium was broken. It had taken nearly all the power he had to pierce the veil and bring her broken spirit back from the dead. What small portion of strength he had left was spent trying desperately to keep her conscious. It had been a wasted effort, due to blood loss and everything else, the poor girl was out within an hour of reaching the apartment.

Now, all there was left was to wait –patiently. This was the worst part: Mamoru was not a patient man. Especially with her, it seemed, he couldn't handle the suspense. He had watched helplessly as she struggled for breath, had held her hand in his own as her tired eyes finally closed in a silent surrender to sleep. Knowing how bad her injuries were, and how little of her power could be used right now; he would be waiting long into the morning for those hauntingly blue eyes to open once more.

And it was his fault.

He took a deep breath against the harsh sting the thought brought to his chest. It had been his fault Usagi had given up so easily, had been his words to push her over the edge. Serenity never would have given in to such talk, having had a certain sense of self since birth. He had not taken into account the insecurities of a young teenage girl with bad grades and too much responsibility. He had assumed she was as self assured as she had been before. But that was an impossible dream. In her mind, she was just Usagi. The poor girl had no idea who stared back in the mirror, what kind of power lay beneath the surface, what kind of Lady she truly was.

Of course, part of this earth life had been a vast improvement, he admitted to himself. Where before the self assured princess knew exactly what she wanted and had no problem asking for it, Usagi seemed much more timid and shy at times, blushing at every glance. Serenity had met his eyes without a second thought; the idea of her coy and speechless was definitely a turn on. Not to mention the daily run- ins they'd had for months now; the princess never would have crashed haplessly into him, only to sprawl out on the ground in an impressive show of wicked long legs and flushing porcelain skin.

A helpless grin slashed across his face at the thought. It was adorable. Her freckled skin, the salty tears, her shy blush; she was so…human now, so reachable. Gone was the perfect, pristine empress of the past, and the young woman who stood in her place every bit as attractive, every bit as beautiful. Those things that she must see as her worst traits, he would never trade for anything. They were what drove him on, what made him laugh till his sides hurt, what made that strangely painful sting in his chest, what made him wander his apartment for weeks on end without sleep. She was everything he had hoped for, everything he had longed for.

And he'd almost killed her.

His thoughts crashed down once more, along with the soaring feeling in his chest. Turning, his dark midnight eyes searched her form once more, wishing she would wake so that he could throw himself at her feet and beg for forgiveness. Instead, they met with the steady rhythm of her breathing, the still ruddy glimmer of golden hair soaked red beneath the penetrating light of his apartment. Her face was riddled in horrific patches of broken skin where she'd met pavement, the sticky wet liquid continued to drain from a wound in the side of her head. And it was his fault.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and closing both eyes in frustration. He didn't know which was worse, the fact that he'd caused it, or the fact that he couldn't do anything more about it. It was all up to her now, to fight for it, to want to live. Considering her state before the battle had even begun, it was his major concern. He had whispered to her for hours now, encouraging her to keep breathing, to forgive him. It all seemed in vain though; her eyes had not opened in response to his pleas. In his heart, he prayed and begged that she would pull through, that she somehow wouldn't scar. He hoped more than anything that she would forgive him.

She stirred quietly in her sleep, breaking his heart with how weak her movements seemed. Abandoning his perch on the balcony, he closed the distance between them and settled both knees in the blood stained carpet. His fingers caressed the softly bruising side of her face wistfully, wondering if there was anything more that could be done to aid her recovery, but he had slaved over her for hours with a surgical needle and gauze, had searched every medical text book in the apartment.

"I love you, Usako." He choked out quietly, voice breaking with fatigue and lost hope. "If you…if you let go, I can't come for you again. I…" a sob tore through at his own helplessness, eyes searching her face for a sign that she could hear him. "I… I can't just walk into the afterlife, Usako, I'm not strong enough anymore…and the taboo…"

A sudden chill swept along his spine at the words. His eyes closed in pain, the chill spreading throughout his body now. His fingers sought her blood tinged hair, wishing for any amount of comfort as the thought struck home. Some things even he feared in this life, and he had broken an ancient taboo in retrieving her the first time. The seal no doubt would come back to claim more than its price in blood from him. A very real sense of dread cackled against his throat at the idea.

But it didn't matter! She was worth whatever price he had to pay. Pluto could understand that, couldn't she? Had he not been the first to die in their past life, he would have broken the taboo in an instant to bring her back, but…but fate had not allowed it. Was there no sense of justice?! Was there no chance of ever having a normal life with her?!

It had been hours since her strange behavior in the arcade, since the attack at the mall. After so long with so much stress and anger and guilt, Mamoru's system was overloading beneath the pressure. A very real sense of despair tightened his chest as his eyes combed her face. She…was so fragile, so small… He buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking uncontrollably as the night closed around him silently. He felt so hopeless. He felt tired and sick and angry and vengeful and broken, and damn it, he just wanted her to be ok!

He would have to wait, but patience definitely wasn't a virtue of his. He would have to hope that all could be forgiven in the end, but such things only happened in fairytales. He would have to trust that their love would somehow win out over reason, over taboo, over death. It was a long time till morning.

And Mamoru was not a patient man.


	5. Chapter 5

The first thought in her trouble filled mind was of him. She couldn't help it; he was an addiction that outweighed common sense. The thrumming in her head didn't dissuade her imagination as he stood before her in all his perfected glory. The sunlight glinted in his hair like onyx stone, his eyes were warm and comforting. She frowned to herself, only unhappy that her head hurt too much to truly enjoy his splendor in this particular daydream. He approached, eyes curious as she felt her legs finally give out beneath the pounding fissure of agony erupting in her head. The images faded in response to her fall, and she found herself awake once more.

Her throat closed off a moment later, head pounding with a pain so intense it could only be described as hell. Her arms, though weak and difficult to move, covered her head as she began to sob helplessly. She felt nothing other than the blinding burden, heard nothing as the humming in her ears grew louder with each pressured heartbeat. Her only thought was the hurricane of pain, the heady weight of her hands in her stiff hair, the feel of her heartbeat thudding behind her eyes. Her whole body racked with the force of her sobs, thrashing to find any relief from the burning, aching throb that snuffed at her very consciousness.

Her breath was coming in short, painful gasps, farther and farther apart, causing her already agony-filled mind to feel light and unbalanced. The fog surrounding her was overflowing with that oppressive golden sunlight, the musty smell of dried blood, the unsteady feeling that soon she would pass out and the pain would subside…but a voice called to her, a cool hand stroked her shoulder, her forehead.

The pain slipped a little from her mind at the introduction of this new touch. At a brush of a hand against her temples, the throbbing subsided. A sweep against her cheek caused the breath to even and slow. The dark shadow across her form blocked out the penetrating sunlight. She gulped against a swollen throat, afraid to open her eyes and see who was standing over her. Heavy, gasping breath rasped and whined in her dry throat as she waited. Fingers trailed across her face comfortingly, causing the pain to drift into the corners of her memory.

The fingers teased at something gauzy wrapped around her head. She had no intention of opening her eyes, though; too afraid whoever was helping her would stop the heavenly touches. With each gentle pressure of fingers, the pain would wither away like scraps of paper in a fire. The touches were loving and sweet, though they did not bring to mind those of her mother. She couldn't quite give a name to the distinct difference, and realized that to do so she would have to open her eyes and put a face to the feeling. The overwhelming fear forced breath from her lungs as finally her eyes opened to reveal the mystery.

She was not prepared for the answering gaze. Soft eyes the color of a murky cobalt sea were focused completely on her, rimmed with charcoal black lashes and defined, thick brows. They were the eyes that had haunted her even in her sleep, steeped in guarded sorrow and always lonely. It had been her fatal mistake when they'd met; to look into those eyes. Their depths had both burned and chilled her to the core; the sweet sorrow had tugged a hollow point below her heart. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Where it not for the dark crimson staining his hands and cuffs, she would have placed the image as another illusion her heart had conjured up. She'd been captivated, sucked down into the gentle darkness and lost.

The young girl had never looked at anyone as a man before. There had been friends and older men that reminded her of her father; but none of them had inspired wild fantasies that caused even her to wander sleeplessly night after night. There were countless images of his arms around her, the heady feeling of him holding her close…. Too many times, she'd won a heavy detention sentence when daydreaming of the handsome, yet equally removed upperclassman. She had often wondered what it would be like if he could return those affections. Such things only happened in fairytales and novels, though. She knew a man of his caliber and perfection couldn't possibly care for a scrawny, simpering girl more than 5 years his junior.

She forced her lower lips steady, but the tears came anyway. Blinking back her earlier thoughts, she turned her gaze away from those gentle, sleep rimmed eyes and reminded herself that it was impossible. She should never have looked into them to begin with, she should have pushed herself harder to forget or to move on –anything but be trapped by him. Perhaps the most painful thing of all was the memory of his touch against her face, how she had never felt so safe and cared for. The familiar weight of the tiara was a heavy clue as to why he was being so kind. He, just like every other guy in Tokyo, was probably madly in love with the short-skirted Senshi.

"Oi, Usagi-chan," he murmured, hooking her chin as both eyes flew open in shock and horror. "Are you alright?" Worry clashed against panic as they stared blatantly at each other.

"B-but I…" she gulped against her dry throat, feeling the gloves at her hands and the hem of the ridiculously short skirt. It definitely wasn't what she'd been wearing to talk to him, that was for sure. "I…I'm trans…"

"I know." He continued reassuringly, "Are you alright?"

Usagi's terror-stricken mind barely registered the repeated question as it flittered about the corners of her thoughts feverishly. Her eyes swayed, pulled to the unfamiliar surroundings and the alarming proximity of him. The gentle masculine scent was completely numbing as she felt it invade every inch of her. His soft grin was slightly ironic, though not without the heavy touch of care and concern. He did not seem surprised at all. Her mind began to churn now, quickly taking into account the medical supplies on the living room table, the freshly used gauze with blood –her blood all over them. She gulped, forcing herself to focus on him again.

"How long have you known?" The whispered question barely made it past her lips, so scared she was of his answer. He breathed heavily, still touching her face in thought. In any real world situation, he would be pacing and grumbling at how inadequate she would be as a Senshi. In any real world, he would not be watching her so closely. She gulped painfully as his fingers continued to tease her skin.

He said nothing. With every gentle touch, though, she felt it was all a dream anyway. Blinking, fighting back the tears as they came, she began to wonder if she'd asked the question at all. Golden sunlight seemed to refract and sparkle just at the corner of her vision. The pain, though not as intense as it had been when she woke, still persisted somewhere in the back of her mind. All of this was not real. Mamoru was not kneeling in front of her. She was not laying on his couch. He was not looking at her as if he cared.

Tears began to soak the heavy material of the dark couch below her soggy face, impeded by a wrapping of some sort. No doubt he had done that, too. The hot tears squeezed from her tired eyes in rivulets as the shame and self-pity bubbled up from her heart. First Tuxedo Kamen had risked life and limb to save her, then some dark prince had saved her from a nightmare too horrifying to be real, and now Mamoru had bound her wounds. Her shoulders rippled involuntarily as she sobbed. Perhaps the most horrifying was that he hadn't used her Senshi name…. After everything that had happened, she didn't want to dream anymore.

"Usagi-chan!" Mamoru was half yelling by now, concerned that she hadn't hardly taken one look before burying herself into the cushion. She wasn't listening, he could tell. She must have realized something was off, because the pain should have been gone by now. He reached out cautiously, afraid that he had hurt her too much to be a comfort now. His own shame coupled with her sobs was enough to crush the life from him.

The tears flowed freely now into the cushion. He had called her Usagi, he had known the whole time…. The weight in her chest increased a hundred fold and she felt herself curl into a ball, trying her hardest to block out his smoky soft voice. The sobs were already causing her shoulders to shake uncontrollably. How could he have known? Had Kamen given away her secret while she slept? How… how could he bear to think the legendary soldier was nothing more than the stupid weakling he teased every day? Let alone the one who…who had given up all hope…

"Usa-chan?" He whispered again after her tears had subsided and most of the shaking had stopped. She didn't turn to him, no doubt too embarrassed after her initial reaction. Mamoru glanced down at himself, grimly taking in his white tux shirt stained red with her blood, mask and jacket discarded in the wake of the emergency. She would have seen straight through the glamour as if it never existed, especially for how she felt about him. He sighed, running a hand through his already unruly dark locks. He'd spent all that time last night thinking about her, and yet hadn't considered how he was going to explain himself.

"Go away, Mamoru-san." She whimpered finally, her voice echoing defeat. He thought instantly of her kneeling on the dirty ground, the shimmering waves of golden hair losing its shine. The memory burned. Grimly, but with every ounce of gentleness he could, both arms closed about her shuddering form and lifted her easily from the cushions.

"What the?" She squeaked, feeling the couch suddenly fall away as she was deftly spun in mid air and placed back down to face him. Her face was twisted in shock and horror as it finally came into view, only augmented by the red-splotched gauze wrapped around her head. Mamoru smiled grimly as he settled back down on his haunches before her, hands already reaching for the useless wrapping.

"Sh, I need you to look at me for a second, Usagi-chan." His voice was soft and pleading as his fingers tentatively pulled at the gauze. Her eyes were clouded with pain and submission as she closed her mouth obediently, staring at the floor. His finger hooked beneath her chin softly as the soft cotton finally gave way. The gentle pressure against her chin made tears pour into Usagi's eyes. It would have been so much more bearable if he would just act like he didn't care. She fought the urge to shudder and sob as her face was turned to the side for his examination of the wound. Though it was still sore, her mind easily jumped from the pain to his probing fingertips against her face. "It's not so bad. Hold still."

Hot tears sprung to her eyes and her chest tightened painfully at the butterfly-winged touch of his finger pads against her eyebrow. Sudden flashes of refracted golden light blinded her vision from that side, causing the tears to pour helplessly down her face as she held her breath in agony. Why did he have to do that? The gentle touch flared the pain back to life, then quickly soothed it away in the same moment. She gulped in air by the mouthful, confused at the stark difference from moment to moment. It didn't make sense! This whole dream didn't make sense!

The sight of her wet cheeks brought a strangled cry to his lips and he tore his fingers away quickly. He'd hurt her! He didn't mean to, the psychometry was supposed to be helping and instead it had done nothing but make her shudder and bite down a scream. The pain must be unbearable. He'd brought her soul back from the underworld, and even now could see the shadow of it across her. She probably had no idea what it was exactly that caused such unbearable pain. But psychometry was the only thing he knew that could help fend it off.

"Sh, Usagi-chan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you…" His words could not have been more painful to her ears as she realized what he'd said. She closed her eyes tight, till even the tears could not break through, hating that her whole body was shaking. Worst of all, she hated the fact that his soothing hands against her face meant nothing to him. All she wanted to do was disappear and pretend this whole thing had never happened.

"Please, leave me alone." The frail, trembling tone of her voice betrayed her weakness then. Mamoru swallowed thickly, feeling her pain and vulnerability then. She was still so weak from the attack, and he had the distinct feeling that this was not the only battle she was fighting now. This time, he wouldn't just sit back and watch her suffer, though. This time, his fingers trailed across her face to rid the pale skin of its salty intruders, his jaw locked determinedly, and he bent forward to press a firm kiss against her newly healed eyebrow.

"Never." Golden blond lashes fluttered open, hardly seen were it not for the sunlight beaming directly into the room. He smiled grimly at her open shock, hands retreating from her quickly blushing cheeks to drop on either side of her knees. "I hope you know what you've gotten yourself into, Usagi-chan," he breathed before shaking his head foolishly. "Eiie, Usako."

Usako.

Visions of what had to have been Hell itself flooded her mind with darkness and hatred. Her gasping throat choked off the air supply as the memories flooded back. The only alleviation had been…that name. The dark prince had shimmered golden, had called that name through the fog… and Mamoru…. Her hand feebly raised to cover her mouth as the shadow dark image of her savior spread itself across his grim face. Both blue eyes shot open wide, her jaw slackened to render a startled moan.

Usagi gaped in horror at his tuxedo shirt- THE tuxedo shirt she must have gripped a hundred times, spotted in her own blood. Behind him on the coffee table lay a jumbled mess of medical supplies and two pristinely white gloves, minus that rusty dark glimmer that marred their gentlemanly perfection. The dark prince had taken her home, had changed into Tuxedo Kamen, who in turn was Chiba Mamoru.

"I'm sorry." He said finally, dark blue eyes turning down in grief. A pile of rusty gold hair dripped lazily down the side of the couch, encrusted with blood and dirt. He couldn't help but touch a lock, feeling the hard blood scabbing across what had once been incredibly soft tresses. "Usagi-chan. I should have said something. I know. I'm so sorry."

He pressed his forehead against her knees tiredly, the curve of his shoulders pressing down toward the floor. She gulped. He had always been a pinnacle, an unmovable force that stood bleakly against the horizon. He looked so tired and worn down. He looked so exhausted. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd stayed up all night working on her. She couldn't help but feel guilty for it.

"Usako," he paused. Usagi felt her heart flutter achingly in her chest at the way he spoke the nickname, but waited patiently for him to finish. "I've been keeping secrets from you. I thought you were too young to understand. I didn't want to pressure you…" His voice faded for a moment before both haunted blue eyes rose to meet hers. "I-I'm not very romantic, but…"

It was all there. Usagi felt as if her heart was tumbling and rolling to break free of her chest and quickly reminded herself to breathe. He was so close, knelt down in front of her with his hands once more resting on either side of her legs. He bent, lightly brushing his lips along the jagged scabs of her knees. Golden sparks crackled to life, following every move of his mouth on her aching wounds. Though the pain had flared horribly when he began, in the wake of the strange glitter-like sparkles, all of it quickly ceased as her flesh mended together. Her wonder was trapped in the sizable lump in her throat, effectively cutting off whatever objections could have been raised as his gentle ministrations followed to the other knee.

It wasn't his proximity that caused the sudden bursting feeling in her chest. It wasn't the fact that he'd just kissed her breathless without even touching her mouth. It wasn't even the things he was saying. It was all in his eyes, everything he obviously couldn't find the words to express. It was in the way he nibbled nervously at the corner of his mouth, and how he was obviously forcing himself to breathe as well.

"Mamoru-san…" Usagi murmured, aching to brush to bangs back from his face. She was hesitant at first to touch him, afraid it had all been some cruel game only he would be sick enough to play on her. She stopped short, the thought causing her to wither away from him. "You don't have to say it, I understand…"

"Yes I do!" His outburst rang in the small room, shocking the small girl as desperate hands sought out her face. "Don't you understand what happened? I almost lost you completely because I was too stupid to say it!"

By the end of his rant, that deep, perfectly self confident voice was thick and raw in her ears. And though it pained her to see him so vulnerable and sad, it stoked that soft flame growing in her chest to hear him talk about her like that. Even though the fear that it was all a joke still lingered in the back of her thoughts, the look he gave her now was so convincing.

Who would have thought that the great Chiba Mamoru, who could make girls swoon with a single glance, had his own fanclub, and could easily spend the rest of his life with a different girl a night was talking about her as if she were the only other person in the world, as if he had spent just as much time pining for her as she had for him. Usagi couldn't help but gawk at the thought as he continued vehemently.

"I wanted to tell you everything. I wanted this to be so perfect for you, but I can't! Usako, I'm not romantic. I hardly even feel human most days, but, kami-sama, Usako, I love you." At his statement, she felt for sure this time she would pass out. "I-I wanted to say it better, more like you deserve, but I just…"

Now, tentative fingers did reach up to touch the hands on either side of her face. The dark blue orbs before her ducked toward the touch, as if craving it. Hesitantly, and not without a great deal of fear, she reached forward to touch his face. If this was all some cruel joke she would never, ever forgive him.

His eyes matched those of the dark prince from Hell, the one that had carried her away from that horrible torture. It was difficult to imagine Mamoru within that savior. He had never said anything kind to her. And now, as if something drastic had changed him in a bare moment, now he was speaking like he had loved her all along. It just didn't make any sense, and she fought against the need to accept it at face value.

"I don't know..." His eyes cracked open finally, seeing the war being fought in within the twin blue eyes. He couldn't blame her. It had been a stupid idea to push her away like that. Even more stupid now, he amended, to let her think it was all because of outlying reasons. He honestly loved her –Usagi. He would never make that same mistake again.

"Wait." He pulled away, just enough to see the doubt and horror spread across her features. "I just wanted to set things straight between us. What happened at the arcade was just wrong. You should never have done that." He scooted back a little bit, just enough to be out of arms reach. Her face filled with horror and regret, she shied away from him in every way as he moved. Almost like she was afraid of him, he thought bitterly.

Both hands reached downward to grip her naked feet as he bent forward. Each were given a swift and gentle kiss before he bent forward to press his forehead against the blood-stained carpet. "This is how it should be, Usako. I surrender to you. Everything I am is yours. Forever."

And he meant it.


End file.
